


fifteen feet of pure white snow

by cinderfell



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Agoraphobia, Character Study, Gen, Post-Chroma Conclave Timeskip, crladiesweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 16:10:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10767777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderfell/pseuds/cinderfell
Summary: When you've lived your life in a gilded cage, it's hard to leave even once the door has been opened.





	fifteen feet of pure white snow

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from a prompt ask meme where i was sent titles and i had to come up with hypothetical fics for them. well, this is real now.
> 
> late, but critical role ladies week day 4! cassandra!

“This tea is lovely, darling,” Vex says, taking a sip from her teacup. “Warm. Perfect for this weather.”

Cassandra raises her eyebrow as she swallows a bit of the cute little cake Vex brought her from the bakery. “How so?”

“Haven’t you looked outside?” she asks.

She doesn’t… look outside much. She’s usually holed up in various rooms of the castle doing paperwork or conducting council meetings. “No.”

“The first snow of the winter.” Vex smiles then, and her eyes go almost dreamy for a moment. “The city looks beautiful. I’m used to warmer winters where the cities frost over but don’t snow beyond an inch or two, so this is wonderful. I’m still getting used to the chill here, but I quite like it, I think.”

Cassandra gives a noncommittal shrug. “You get used to it after a while, I suppose.”

“I hope not,” Vex responds with a laugh. “I’d hate to become unmoved by such a lovely sight.” She takes another sip of tea and hums. “It started settling down as I was walking up here from the bakery. I just… there’s just nothing quite like walking through fresh snow when you’re the only thing that’s left a mark in it, you know?”

She doesn’t. She really doesn’t.

Cassandra hasn’t been outside the castle in… a very long time. But still, that’s-- that’s quite an image.

She doesn’t tell that to her companion. Instead she taps her nails against the table a little nervously. “Mmm.”

Vex drains the rest of her tea and stands up, adjusting her hair a bit. “Well, I hope you like the cake, dear.”

Cassandra blinks rapidly, clearing her mind of thoughts of snow. “Uh, yes. It was delicious as always.”

Vex grins. “I’ll pass that compliment onto Pike. That one was one of hers. Now, I think it’s about time I go check on that brother of yours and make sure he’s not dying of starvation or exhaustion in his workshop.”

Cassandra snorts. “I’m sure he hasn’t eaten all day and hasn’t taken a single break.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” She picks her pack up off the floor and slings it over her shoulder. “Talk to you later, Cass.”

Cassandra says farewell and pulls on a parting smile and Vex gives her another little wave before sliding out of the room, leaving Cassandra by herself again. Cassandra looks back down at her cake, the smile sliding off her face as she looks down at the half-eaten sweet. Suddenly she isn’t as hungry anymore.

(She finishes it anyways, of course, because what kind of decent person wastes cake?)

So, the thing about outside.

The thing about outside is complicated, as are a lot of things when it comes to Cassandra de Rolo. The last time she was outside for an extended amount of time, it was when she was dragged through the woods by the Briarwoods’ men, barely conscious and dress soaked through with crimson in the back where the arrows hit her. After that, she was more or less imprisoned in the castle. She was lavished with attention and luxuries that most prisoners would only dream of, of course, but in the end it hardly matters. They wanted to lure her onto their side through isolation and toxic affection and, abandoned and alone, it worked.

She spent _years_ without leaving the castle for more than a few minutes, and after their reign came to an end she just… she couldn’t. She couldn’t leave. The castle had been made her cage, yes, but it was the only thing that she knew. The only thing that was safe, even when the safety she felt was a carefully constructed lie. And now, with a wide open world in front of her, she is terrified.

But hearing Vex talk about the feeling of walking through unblemished snow? She’s never felt anything like that. But… she wants to.

She wants to and she’s terrified.

She manages to go about the rest of the afternoon and attend to the things she has to, but she can’t help but carry that thought around with her in the back of her mind.

Anxiety hums through her veins as she stands in the doorway leading out into the courtyard, her hands shaking, one clenched in a fist at her side and the other gripping the heavy wooden door. The courtyard is one of the smaller ones throughout the castle, stuck between two hallways that run parallel to each other and barely fifteen feet across. In the warmer months it’s used for gardening, filled with potted plants and herbs that are used down in the kitchens. Currently, though, it’s covered in snow that rises just short of her knees.

She is terrified. Even with this courtyard, still within her own castle, the open space is daunting.

She doesn’t want to live her life in a cage anymore.

She takes a step, just a single step, and watches as her foot sinks down into the snow. She’s not wearing boots or shoes made for being outside-- why would she when she never leaves the castle?-- and instead wears a silken pair of finely embroidered flats on top of a thin pair of stockings, hidden by the skirts of her dress. The cold seeps through both instantly, chilling her down to her bones. Instinctively she almost steps out again, flinches back at the sensation, but she takes a deep breath and steels herself yet again.

She can do this. She _will_ do this.

She takes another step, then another. And then another, and then three more. Her breath comes out in sharp intakes and hot clouds that rise up around her face.

She’s nearing the halfway point, and for the first time she dares to look up from her feet and around at her surroundings and she’s _hit_. She’s hit with where she is, all of it at once. The courtyard is tiny but it feels like she’s adrift in the middle of a wide open ocean, white upon white upon white with nothing but the overcast gray above her and the castle walls so far from her, too far too far _too far too_ \--

She can’t-- she _can’t_ \--

Suddenly overwhelmed, she turns on her heels and begins stumbling back through the snow. When she reaches the doorway she nearly collapses, clinging to the heavy castle door as if it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Her breath comes in heavy gasps, her own heartbeat loud in her ears and a gnawing ache of wrongness in her core. Her nails bite into the wood as she pulls herself together again before somebody stumbles upon her-- she wonders if she’ll leave crescent marks in the wood from how hard she’s gripping it.

After a few unbearably long moments, she finally manages to regulate her breathing and silence the ringing in her ears. She rests her head against the door, ignoring the coldness of it against her forehead. Finally, she tilts her head to the side slowly to look at the courtyard.

There’s… power in this, isn’t there? A power in walking through something unspoiled and leaving your mark. (She knows this. That was _their_ game with her, after all.) Power. Something she’s always lacked, something she still lacks despite being the one everyone defers to. She wields what they give her, of course, but she has very little of her own, very little that comes from herself. She gave up the semblance of her own power when she was very young, her youth and sense of stability ripped away from her by the gift of survival and sharp teeth pricking against her neck and honeyed words whispered by someone who was not her mother but played the part anyways. She hasn’t had her own power in a long time, still doesn’t have any, but perhaps, in time--

She takes a deep breath and traces her path through the snow, the set of careful footsteps leading out and the trail of hastily displaced snow where she’d rushed back inside.

It’s-- well, it’s not a lot. Barely halfway. But it’s a start.

Sometimes that’s all you can ask for.

She casts one more look at the snowy courtyard before closing the door and making her way back to her room to continue her paperwork, her heart beating just a little too quick for her own comfort.


End file.
